


An Uneventful Weekend

by Silvestria



Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen, Olivia is a spy, Sisters, Viola reads romances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvestria/pseuds/Silvestria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viola and Olivia have a mini-break at an unimpressive sea-side resort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Uneventful Weekend

The B&B was an uninspiring boarding house on the seafront. It was painted a faded pink and the furniture belonged to the 1970s. It reminded Viola of the Sans Souci from Agatha Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence stories. What its appeal had been to Olivia over a slightly more up-market hotel or even the Premier Inn on the outskirts of town, she really had no idea. Admittedly, their room did have a large window with a fine view over the pebbly beach, the rusty pier and the grey sea. That was something, and there was an off-season bleakness that had a special appeal of its own.

Viola bagged the bed nearest the window and started unpacking her make-up onto the dressing table. Olivia flung down her hold-all onto the floor and flopped down on her bed, immediately picking up her tablet.

“You’re always on that thing,” Viola observed a few moments later, as she subsided onto her own bed with a book.

“I’m writing,” said Olivia, without looking up. She opened up an unassuming app called “Track Your Fitness” and typed in her username and password.

“ _Firefly_ fic?” inquired Viola, bending back the spine of her novel.

Olivia did look up then. “No! C’mon, Vi, that was years ago. I write Marvel these days. I’m writing this Natasha Romanoff backstory fic.” She opened up a chat box found within the app.

_Jake, you here?_

“Black Widow? Cool. Who’d you ship her with? Bruce or Hawkeye?”

_Here. You in position Liv?_

_Just arrived. Got a perfect view of the pier. Meeting tomorrow morning, right?_

_7.30am. You able to get rid of your sister?_

“Ew no, neither, you’re such a movie fan. I read the comics and she’s got this awesome history with Bucky when they were training together in Russia. So I ship them.”

_She’ll be still asleep, trust me._

_Good. Got all the details?_

_Everything in place. How’s the office?_

_Quiet without you._

_Thanks a lot loser._

_Okay Liv. Buzz me when it’s done. Have fun!_

_See you Monday!_

She closed the app, put the tablet down and turned to look at her sister. Her legs were crossed and she appeared totally engrossed in a small, pink novel.

“What’ve you got? James Joyce? Ernest Hemingway?”

Viola gave her a wry grin and showed her the cover. “Almost as impressive. _The Deb’s Ducal Dilemma_. Quality reading material.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “Sounds it.”

“So why-“ continued her sister just as her phone flashed. She picked it up and smiled suddenly, rolling her eyes.

_Planning new novel from POV of tinned sardine. Currently doing vital personal research on the Northern Line._

“Anyway, why are we here, Liv? Of all the places we could go for the weekend, what’s Sowestry-on-Sea got that nowhere else does?”

Olivia shrugged. “It’s the seaside-“

“It’s _February_!”

“It’s cheap – and before you interrupt, not all of us are hotshot lawyers and can afford five star hotels all the time, okay? And it’s close to London so getting out tonight wasn’t too bad.”

“Hmm.”

Viola texted back quickly:

_Sounds like Booker material. Stiff upper lip – it’s in a good cause!_

A reply came back instantly with a photo of her friend’s face comically pressed up against the tube window, mouth open and someone’s elbow jamming his glasses at a strange angle.

_I suffer for my art. But we are purified by pain._

“Viola! Earth to Viola! Did you even hear what I said?”

She blinked and put the phone down. “Sorry, Geoff texted. What was it?”

“I was saying that mainly I just wanted to spend time with my darling sister and didn’t care where we did it. But if you’d rather text Geoff all evening…”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, he sent me this photo that – you know what? Never mind.” She smiled ruefully and held her hand out across the divide between the beds. “And I’m so glad you wanted to do this. We haven’t had a proper catch up for ages.”

Olivia took the hand and squeezed it. “We haven’t! So, on a totally unrelated note, how’s Blake?”

“Blake?”

“Yes. You know, your _boyfriend_. Unless you split up again. Honestly, it’s getting hard to keep up.”

Viola laughed. “He’s good. He’s at a conference this weekend up in Edinburgh. Lots of important people and fancy dinners. I was going to go… but I’d rather be here with you to be honest.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s getting a bit, you know…” _Clingy_ , was what she wanted to say. Ever since Henry and Charity had hooked up at Elise’s wedding, she’d caught him looking at her oddly sometimes. It wasn’t the first time he’d started to get _ideas_ but they seemed to be occurring to him more and more frequently these days. She didn’t want to break up with him (again) but the thought of becoming Mrs. Pritchard, moving to the suburbs and probably giving up her career to pop out a host of perfect little sprogs made her want to run for the hills. There was no hurry for that sort of thing; she would be fertile for at least another ten years. Why everyone around her seemed to feel the need to jump into middle-class domesticity before the age of thirty, she really could not understand.

“So dump him,” said Olivia succinctly.

“I don’t want to… I like him!”

“So don’t dump him!” She rolled her eyes.

Viola mimed throwing something at her and noticed her phone flash out of the corner of her eye.

_Will miss you tonight. Crap movie and beer Fridays just aren’t the same on my own. Hope you’re having fun with Livia though._

She bit her lip and brushed her finger over the phone screen as if that could somehow communicate something.

_Sorry!! Next week we’ll watch something really awful. Your choice. Going to watch something tonight anyway?_

The message came back instantly.

_Nah. Going to get ahead with PP and actually send her to prom. Yaaaaay! VIRTUAL FIST PUMP._

Viola concealed a snort. _Princess Polly goes to Prom_ was the latest in a series of teenage books supposedly written by a fourteen year old YouTube make-up sensation. In actual fact, they were written by Geoffrey. Viola had read the first two: _Princess Polly_ and _Princess Polly proves her Point_. They weren’t all that bad. Considering.

Over dinner in a cosy pub near the old harbour, she decided to turn the tables and question Olivia.

“So how’s the job?”

Olivia pushed some peas around her plate. “Eh, you know. Same old.”

“There’s no need to sound so enthusiastic…” Viola tilted her head and observed her. “I don’t get it, Liv, I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“You. Doing this. A degree in English and International Relations, all your hobbies and interests and drive – hell, I remember when you learned Mandarin just so you could write better fanfic – and you’re doing _what_ exactly with your life?”

Olivia drank a large gulp of cider and put the glass down firmly before replying. “Viola, I have a steady job as an office manager for a perfectly decent firm which is more than a lot of my generation can say and-“

“You do basic admin for a company that sells paperclips.”

“And other stationery! Come on, Viola, be fair…”

Her sister took a breath. “Fine. I get that it’s hard to find meaningful work at the moment, I really do, but I can’t believe you’re happy. I can’t believe that you find this inspiring. Paperclips, Livia, _paperclips_!”

“It’s a _job_ , Vi, it’s not my whole life. Anyway, you know, I do get to travel!”

“Yeah, to stationery manufacturing team building weekends in – where was the last one?”

“Loughborough. Okay – okay!” She had to laugh. “So it’s not perfect but it won’t be forever. You want another drink?”

Viola did and Olivia  escaped to the bar. As she waited for the drinks she thought back to her last excursion two weeks ago. Cairo had been intense – hot and noisy and sometimes scary – but it had been wonderfully thrilling as well, and her Arabic really was coming along. She’d understood almost everything in the streets and on TV and in the newspapers – and one of the managers at the hotel had said she had an excellent accent. Loughborough indeed!

Back in their room, as Viola had a bath, Olivia opened up “Track Your Fitness” again and even though Jake wasn’t there, she sent him a message all the same.

_You have got to get me a better job. The paperclip thing just doesn’t hold water. I can’t keep lying to Viola like this. It doesn’t make any sense long term._

* * *

 

In the morning, her phone buzzed an alarm under her pillow, and Olivia rose silently. She put on leggings, t-shirt and tied her hair back into a messy ponytail. She clipped her phone into the holder on her leggings and plugged in her earphones.

“Just going for a run,” she muttered at the duvet covered lump on the other bed. It made grumbling, snuffling noises in reply.

At the door, she hesitated. Her utilitarian hold-all lay in the corner and she knew that if she chose, she could get out her gun, which was shoved in a side pocket. But this was Sowestry-on-Sea and where would she hide a gun in skintight leggings and a t-shirt? She closed the door quietly behind her.

The early morning air coming off the sea was cold and she set herself a brisk pace along the promenade above the stony beach first one way and then back the other, checking her time every now and then on her watch. At 7.20am, she slowed to a more comfortable jog and headed onto the pier. There were already a couple of fishermen about three quarters of the way along. They ignored her. There was also a little old woman with a headscarf walking a terrier slowly up the pier. Olivia reached the end and stopped running, catching her breath as she leant against the railing, staring down into the sea.

“Morning,” said the little old woman politely as she drew close.

Olivia pulled out her earphones and turned to smile at her. “Morning.” She reached down for her phone to turn off the music and detached a very tiny memory drive in the meantime.

“What a nice dog!” she exclaimed, as the terrier approached her, wagging its tail, and forced herself not to flinch. It was a nice dog, of course it was, it wouldn’t do anything, it was all in her head… She gingerly reached down and gave it a pat, inwardly willing it to submit to it without making any sudden movements. She stroked it and ruffled its ears and felt around its collar as she did so, attaching the memory drive to the specially adapted connector. Standing up, she smiled again at the woman. “Have a lovely morning.”

“You too,” she said and tugged on the dog’s lead. “Come along, Dixie.”

They moved off and Olivia faced the sea once more, changed the playlist, reattached her phone and stuck her earphones back in. She did a few stretches before turning around and jogging back to the hotel.

She found Viola sitting up in bed, drinking tea and deep in _The Deb’s Ducal Dilemma_.

“Good run?” she enquired, looking up.

“Pretty good. Chilly out. How’s the book? Any thrilling developments?” Olivia replied as she tugged off her trainers.

“Oh, it’s really hotting up,” began Viola with relish. “The angelic Lady Angela is being encouraged to marry the Duke of Wilmslow who’s presented as a nice sort of person and it looks like a done deal but that was before Angela’s Vauxhall Gardens tryst with the Byronic-moronic Duke of Pendeen. Frankly I don’t know why either are interested in Angela since she’s dull as paint and I think they’d do better pursuing Lady Emmeline who may be a bitch but is at least good fun. Hopefully they’ll at least fight a duel and one of them will die. Preferably both!”

“Wish I had two Dukes fighting over me,” grumbled Olivia as she entered the bathroom, taking her tablet with her and opening up “Track Your Fitness” as she went.

“Not these two you don’t,” murmured her sister to the closed door, before returning to Angela and her first world problems.

Sowestry-on-Sea was admittedly not the sort of place she was accustomed to come on mini-breaks – definitely not somewhere that would be top of Blake’s list of romantic getaway spots, but she had to admit that her bed was comfortable, the room was quiet and that it was very pleasant to think that she had two days to spend just talking and walking and reading with her sister and not a work email in sight. There was an old castle on the headland that she had noticed on the map the B&B had provided and she would suggest to Olivia that they walk up there after breakfast. Her stomach rumbled on cue. It had been a long time since she’d had a traditional, full English start to the day; trendy London brunches were not the same thing at all. She lay back down on the pillows and smiled at the ceiling. Perhaps Livia had been right: this was just the place for an uneventful break from the city.


End file.
